I recall Hannah’s words, Hannah Arendt, the philosopher: “There are today as many signs to justify hope as to instill fear.” She said that a long time ago, but it’s still true. Sometimes the hope seems a little harder to believe than the fear. But she’s right; she’s still right. There are as many signs to justify hope as to instill fear.
I don’t need to convince you that ours is a broken world. It has, of course, always been broken; evil sometimes runs riot and out of control. Ages of good and ages of wickedness seem to come and go, fever in the body politic; it seems our society is sick. I don’t know. I’m suspicious about thinking good about the good old days, but it does feel different, at least to me. Another shooting, another, and another. The wicked walk in circles; Dante depicted the damned walking in circles; another shooting, another, and then another. There are as many signs of hope as there are of fear. We’ve got fear part down, that’s true enough.
And, by the way, it’s shaping our children, and not for the better. It’s curious what we’re all doing to our children, how so many of our evils bear down on them. Maybe I’m speaking as a father here, fearing for my own. Maggie plays a softball game today; it’s a team put together of girls from St. Rita and Christ the King. On their uniforms they wear the letter E, in pink. It’s for Evelyn, that beautiful little girl killed in Nashville a couple weeks ago; her cousin, you see, is on the team; her cousin cries at the games sometimes. Something is different. Another shooting, another, and another.
It’s changed us. We’re now armed to the teeth here at St. Rita. We now have a security program, best in the city. Because we can do that. I fought it forever, but I couldn’t hold out; it’s what we had to do. Because something is different. Another shooting, another, and another. There are as many signs to instill fear as justify hope. It’s changed us.
But what about hope? Here I’m not going to talk about any hardened position, any policy, broken politics. Some of you would yell at me if I did. Also, I kind of think when preachers do that, they’re just getting something off their chest, and that’s not what I want to do. I just want to wonder aloud about that thing Hannah Arendt said. “There are today as many signs to justify hope as to instill fear.” What about that? What about hope? Where is it?
One place for hope, I think, is here. We have here an art show today, art our kids have made. I remember what A. A. Milne said once, “All art is witness to the sanctity of the individual and never was such witness wanted as it is today.” I think that’s true too. This is a community that makes art, makes beauty. This is a community that tries to teach children about God, the good, the true, the beautiful. I think that’s hope.
We also pray every day. We gather: Wednesdays, you know, we gather to eat as friends. Our young people gather. We care for the poor. We argue and forgive. We’re sinners; we’re a broken community. I know that’s the truth, intimately. We are not perfect at all. But, of course, that’s the point. That’s why we’re here. For that thing called mercy. I think that’s hope.
I think of something else Hannah Arendt said, she said that what has become dangerous is that loneliness has become “an everyday experience.” Imagine what she’d say today. But again, this is why I believe in things like the parish, in communities like ours that gather in charity, friendship, and the worship of God. That matters. Belong here; find a good place to belong. Because I think that’s hope.
In one of the readings this morning it says, “let yourselves be built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood.” It says we are a “holy nation, a people of his own” called to praise the God who called us out of darkness into light.[1] In the gospel, Jesus says, “Do not let your hearts be troubled…have faith in me.” And then he talks about a place, his “Father’s house.”[2] But it’s mysterious, sacramental. Jesus is the way to that place, the truth of it, the life of it. And Jesus is here. Jesus is in this place. Here in a moment, we’ll sing with angels, “Holy, holy, holy.” Here in a moment, we’ll share peace with each other and behold the Lamb of God. Now I know this isn’t enough, not all we should do; but it’s what we can do here. Signs to instill fear are everywhere it seems sometimes. So, where is hope? It’s here.
People will scoff, think it’s pointless, I know. But a beautiful community makes an impact; it changes people for good. Just like beautiful families can make beautiful people. There is indeed ugliness in this world, but there’s beauty too. Which is what we need to be, still, no matter how tedious and repeated the evils of this world shake us—we need to stay beautiful. And I think you’re all beautiful; but I also pray every day that we stay beautiful in this sometimes very ugly world. Amen.
[1] 1 Peter 2:4-9
[2] John 14:16
© 2023 Rev. Joshua J. Whitfield
